


Before I sleep

by MotherMagdalene



Category: Donald Pierce - Fandom, Logan Movie 2017, Wolverine and the X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Dominance, F/M, Mutants, Submission, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 07:41:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16425242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherMagdalene/pseuds/MotherMagdalene
Summary: Just a random ramble involving Donald Pierce.





	Before I sleep

It’s funny the things we think of in times like these, the simple things we take for granted. Take breathing for example, the act it’s self seems simple enough despite it actually being a delicate negotiation between muscle, organ, tissue and cells. But when you can’t breathe you realise how much you took this involuntary act for granted.

If he wanted me dead, I would be dead, but I am not. Instead I feel the full weight of his consuming mass on my diaphragm, not allowing it to contract nor relax, instead stuck in a state of confusion. His muscular thighs grip around my hips keeping me focused and held down in place.

I feel his knees digging into my bicep and forearm, keeping my arms held fast against the hot ground, a long day of summer heat now branding my exposed skin. Gravel embeds itself into the open wound on my shoulder, the more I try to writhe under him the more I tear it open and the more satisfaction I give him. The intense pressure he places on my arms causes them to tingle and then slowly numb and I no longer try to reach for him, claw at him. I have already exhausted myself.

I feel his flesh hand embracing my throat, causing me to take short, shallow breaths. I can detect the controlled strength in each of his fingers, his dedication and the pleasure he takes in his work. He is compressing and releasing, enjoying the power he currently has over someone like me. Silent tears form in the corner of my eyes and run down the side of my face as he plays with me, the thrill of the hunt almost over.

He knows exactly what he is doing and so I do. He is waiting for me to beg, to submit, to give him his victory over me, and declare him the superior being. I don’t. I won’t. It’s part of our game, a game he would never admit he prolongs more than he has to, a game he loves to play.

I know there is chaos going on around me, as my fellows find their fates. We had bonded over our desire to survive, the desire to be more than the names and numbers they gave us but it can only last so long. Someone always slips up, gets complacent, bored and perhaps I do too. The thrill of knowing he is getting closer, knowing that he is thinking of me, it's an addictive thing.

I focus on his eyes as they bore into mine, his angelic baby blues, how many souls have lost their fight in those eyes, been bewitched and charmed to their horrific end? I refuse to look away, even as darkness starts to creep into the edges of my vision, making him all I can see.

He removes his yellow tinted glasses and leans over my face, his steady breath combines with mine. He smirks, gold tooth on display, knowing he has almost won, knowing he has almost squeezed the consciousness out of me, knowing that my weak body has once again betrayed my “tenacious resolve and obstinate will” his words not mine.

I smile back in kind, bloody gums and swollen lip, its a genuine return of affection with a dash of delirium. This distasteful venture he and I share has become a familiar and unhealthy need in my life. I am not as ashamed as I should be and I know he feels the same.

“Sweet dreams baby” I hear his smooth southern accent whisper in my ear as my eyes begin to close and I embrace the darkness that is waiting for me. I feel the pressure of his hand leave my throat and I detect a hand print bruise start to form, the indentation of his gold ring re-establishing the mark he has put there before, leaving his personal brand on me once again.

The last thing I feel or maybe imagine is the sensation of floating, I welcome the weightlessness. I can hear the rhythm of a steady beat and I chase it. Bury myself into the warmth that surrounds me and finally relax into it as I drift away knowing I’m safe with him in this moment.


End file.
